Checkmate
by Lapis Love
Summary: Nothing unusual, but Damon Salvatore was having a pretty crappy night. Being thrown off a cliff and having to rely on a bush for protection, he's literally hit rock bottom. Sounds like a comedy in the making but really, he's just become a chess piece in a prodigy's game. Will he "knight" a queen? Slightly AU.


**A/N: I was bored and came up with a thing. I don't know what this is to be honest with you. I just figured we could use some more Bamon. This is a two part thing. This isn't based off any current or recycled story lines the unimaginative writers have been regurgitating, and is slightly AU although I allude to something that happened in S4 canon. Enjoy!**

***And in case you're wondering. Currently working on Differences, Wide Awake, The Good Girl, 30 Shades of Red, plus my original story Permission. They will be updated not soon, but soon. Thx.***

Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me but the plot. No copyright infringement is intended.

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Shredded and torn and no, he wasn't talking about his leather jacket or fitted Levi's. His body was one mangled web of awful, but he supposed that was the byproduct of being tossed to his death down a cliff with lots of sharp objects waiting to deliver a killing blow to the back of his skull.

He landed with a rib fracturing, hip displacing, tibia breaking thud on asphalt after rolling several feet only to end up on another deserted road in the middle of nowhere.

Blood erupted from his mouth in a metallic puddle under his chin. He was positive he was blind in one eye, deaf in one ear, and lost several of his long and short term memories to the steep side of the cliff.

Slapping one hand against the road he attempted the impossible by lifting his body from the rocky pavement, but he didn't have any strength and fell right back into a prone position. Shooting pain ricocheted through him, firing like traffic signals.

Lots of people wanted him dead. This came as no terrible surprise. If you knew him for longer than a day, you'd probably want him dead, too. Yet the thing he prided himself on was turning tides in his favor, making an enemy into an ally, and an ally into a friend for life. He had been a little rusty as of late, but Damon Salvatore thought he had been making remarkable strides.

Apparently someone with a thirty-five yearlong grievance disagreed. How the hell did anyone expect him to remember what he did during the summer of 1977? That had been a _very _busy year.

Coughing up more blood and maybe a few ounces of pride, Damon breathed roughly through his nose. He did his best to take an inventory of his injuries.

His knuckles were bruised, bleeding, and swelling. His right ankle was clearly broken because his foot was twisted inward more than it should be. One of his ribs punctured something and he was internally hemorrhaging, and the blood was rushing up his esophagus leading him to vomit it up on the pavement. He wasn't healing and that might have had something to do with a spell. He wasn't sure. The details of the night were a little hazy.

In the distance he heard the squeal of tires as a car or truck came to an abrupt stop. Damon listened carefully and tried to roll over into a nearby patch of bushes to give him more cover. It was night, but he was still too visible for his liking. The moon was basically acting like a spotlight trained on him.

Three car doors opened, only two of them shut. Three pairs of feet stomped along the edge of the road, and bickering voices could be heard.

"You should have staked his ass and _then _tossed him."

"I couldn't reach the stake, but I got his ring."

Just now realizing his finger felt lighter than usual, Damon slid his left hand into view and cursed belligerently. Oh—they most assuredly was going to pay for fucking with him. As soon as he healed. As soon as he could peel himself off the ground and repay their kindness.

"Sunrise is still three hours off. We can't risk him getting help and bleeding some helpless person dry. I say we go down there and finish him off. He couldn't have gotten far. Not in his condition."

"You positive that witch pulled off what she was paid to do?"

"Only one way to find out."

"Grab the gasoline and the rope."

_Shit, _Damon bit down on his lip hard enough to bleed. If only his regeneration wasn't compromised at the moment. He was a literal sitting duck with only a thorny bush as his source of protection. The dark vampire had never been big on prayer or asking any deity for help, but he was willing to toss up a few Hail Mary's for someone, _anyone _to intervene.

Where was Stefan when he needed him? Right. Stefan was in Prague and not speaking to him because he may have fingered his now ex-girlfriend. That was a crazy New Year's Eve party.

Testing the flexibility in his fingers and toes, Damon wasn't in as much pain as he had been moments ago, but he was still far from being a hundred percent and able to do any significant amount of damage to the three hillbillies currently scaling down the cliff.

He did his best to will his vampire instincts to take over, to take control. He needed to become a monster of instinct and do what came naturally to him. He needed that base part of him to guarantee he'd make it to the next day.

Fangs cut his gums as they slid from their sheath, and even that made his already burning jaw throb in even more pain.

Ignoring it and trying not to lose consciousness, Damon grunted as quietly as he could when he shifted his body to get a better view of the area behind him. His night vision was defective. He could hardly discern a shadow from a tree.

How had he come to be at such a disadvantage? When would he stop letting a nice pair of legs, blood red pumps, and C-cup boobs distract him?

He could lament about that later. In the privacy of his home. Right now he needed to focus so he could win.

"Stop!" one of the hunters chasing him alerted his two henchmen. "Did you hear that?"

"I didn't hear anything and don't start that shit again. You're always hearing something that turns out to be nothing."

"I swore this time I heard something. Laughter."

"That was probably a coyote, dumbass. Now, _move!"_

"Coyotes don't laugh. Hyenas laugh. And coyotes don't live in this part of the US."

"Thank you for the unwanted geography and wildlife lesson. Can you all shut up? Your yapping is giving our location away."

Damon rolled his eyes. If he was about to meet his end—which he wasn't—but if he were did it have to be at the hands of The Three Stooges? Couldn't believe he was about to say this, but he preferred Jeremy Gilbert to be the one hunting him down. What happened to the hunters that actually made vampires run in the opposite direction? True, he had never personally encountered any, but he had heard the stories.

Sliding his right leg up, a needle-like sensation pierced him and white-hot heat licked his icy skin. This shit was hurting too much and he could barely move. All Damon could do was listen as the hunters scaled down the cliff, and once they reached the bottom, he heard gun chambers being cocked.

They might have been less than thirty feet away from his hiding spot. If they drew a little closer without sensing him, he might be able to use the last of his strength locked away in his reserves, and take out the mouthpiece of the trio, drain him, and that should be enough to give him an advantage to finish off the last two.

Bearing in mind he wasn't shot with a .50 caliber wooden bullet.

Trepidation and fear had been replaced with anticipation of the hunt, the kill. Just a little closer and Damon could spring forward and do what he did best.

Just as their boots came into view, they stopped.

"The hell's that?"

"See, I told you I heard someone laughing."

"No…I mean…_what _the hell is that?"

The bubbling hysteria was easy to identify in the hunter's voice. Damon tried to see what it was that had the hunters seemingly frozen to the spot, but from his vantage point he couldn't see a damned thing. He trained his hearing to the west of him and picked up nothing.

But he _sensed _something. Damon just had no clue if what he was sensing was good or bad.

"I don't know what that is, but we need to find that sonofabitch vampire, kill his ass, and then get the hell out of here."

Mocking laughter blended in with the wind. Now that Damon definitely heard and if he were honest he'd say it sent a chill down his spine.

This stretch of road some twenty miles outside of Mystic Falls had claimed its share of lives. The curves were sharp and when the weather was bad, roads were slick, and visibility was terrible; fatal accidents occurred. There had been plenty of ghost encounter stories told by hikers who claimed to have seen or heard a ghost. No one believed them naturally. But no one exactly hung around this area after sunset to validate or discredit those claims.

If that's what had his pursers scared shitless then he'd like to shake the hand of the ghost that chased them off his tail.

"Whoa!" one of the hunters said. "It moved."

"Shit, man it's getting closer!"

"Look, if that asshole isn't dead he will be. We need to get out of here. Now!"

"No, the job isn't done and we don't leave any job unfinished. Pour the gas, cover as much area as you can, light the fuse and blow the joint."

This was just great, Damon thought and was almost ready to give himself up. With them distracted it was the perfect time to strike. Pain, broken bones aside, he needed move and he needed to do it now.

Just as Damon materialized from the shadows, one of the hunters suddenly took flight in the air, wailing his arms and legs, screaming for his mama to save him. The other two began randomly shooting their guns at the air, and Damon dove back down when a bullet went whizzing by his ear, actually took a piece of the outer shell with it.

Hissing in pain, he couldn't stop watching the show. Yet another hunter was seemingly plucked like a flower into the air leaving only one, who dropped his automatic weapon and began running for his life.

A body dropped from the sky, missing a head, which landed right in front of Damon's face. The eyeballs and tongue were missing and in the back the vampire's mind he knew that was symbolic of something, but he couldn't for the life of him figure out what.

Man screams and high pitched squeals and an uncomfortable gurgling noise rent the air and seconds later it became deathly silent.

Swallowing, Damon waited a few minutes before pushing his body to his feet.

Hobbling from the outcrop, grimacing, Damon spotted two more headless bodies. If he were next he needed to get the hell out of dodge. Yet, he couldn't let these bodies go to waste. Blood was his elixir, his Nyquil, his Xanax.

Vamping over to the hunter closest to him, he picked the headless man up, and sank his fangs into a plaid covered shoulder. The blood was still warm but was cooling by the second and most of it had spilled on the road. He may have drunk half a pint, when a silhouette became visible in his peripheral vision.

The body didn't exactly fall out of Damon's hands. He'd use it a shield if need be because he didn't know what he was dealing with and he really didn't want to find out the hard way, or just seconds before his death.

His mouth opened to say something witty, like he was only catching a late-night snack and would soon be on his way. The words never made it. They were stuck in the back of his throat caught in a tangled web of blood, and fibers from the hunter's shirt.

Fire burst unexpectedly causing Damon to hiss against its brightness. He shielded his eyes, dropped the body. Damon took two steps and stopped moving altogether because it wasn't just a random fire.

It was a person. Engulfed from head to toe in flames.

Blinking rapidly to see if that might make what he was seeing more real, the confused vampire didn't know what to make of what he was seeing. Logic screamed in his ear to pick up his feet and kick rocks back to civilization. However, his curiosity told him to keep his ass right where it was.

He had to see this.

The body of flames drew closer bringing with it delicious and skin tingling heat. Weather didn't affect vampires either way. They didn't get hot or cold. But he was shivering and that might be a sign he was going into shock, which could happen if the body sustained too much trauma. Damon had blood but not enough to heal his more serious injuries, and they were beginning to take their toll on him.

Damon swayed on his feet, taking care not to add too much pressure on his slowly mending ankle. His vision dimmed and then resumed, and he winced against the red-orange and neon yellow flames that were steadily drawing closer to him.

Feasibly if this thing wanted him dead—he'd be dead. He still had his life although Damon didn't understand why.

Maybe he was being saved for last and like desert this thing wanted to enjoy his death.

"If this makes any difference…thanks for saving my life…although you might be seconds away from ending it."

Damon's words didn't seem to have any merit on the being as it continued on its trek. It now stood only ten feet away. He had nowhere else to go but up, and up was a long way to go.

"'_There is an ecstasy that marks the summit of life, and beyond which life cannot rise. And such is the paradox of living, this ecstasy comes when one is most alive, and it comes as a complete forgetfulness that one is alive_.'"

Quoting his favorite book to him? Jack London, _Call of the Wild. _

"_Pick a book, pick any book."_

Damon's eyes widened at the same time the flames burned away leaving behind clouds and whiffs of white billowy smoke.

She emerged, not a hair out of place. Not a scar or burn mark to suggest she had been harmed. Skin the color of spun gold thread, eyes that could rival blades of grass stared owlishly up at him from beneath cheek kissing lashes. That crooked mouth was fixed in a knowing smirk. He looked her over from head to toe. Deceptive perfection that could be distracting stared back at him.

"You're supposed to be dead," wondered stupidly out of Damon's slackened mouth. The world had to be out of warp because this wasn't making sense.

"Did you really think it would be that easy to get rid of me?"

Damon was stupefied. She was in touching distance and he couldn't make himself do it. Touch her to put his racing mind to rest that she was real, or as real as his pain rattled brain decided to make her.

"You lose something and what's the first thing you do?" she questioned.

"Look for it."

"Have you been looking, Damon?" her tone was playfully chastising.

"I started."

"Then you stopped," now she sounded disappointed.

"My hands were tied and then you died!" anger burst out of him and he had no idea why or where exactly it was coming from. She wasn't _supposed _to die, but she did and now she was…

Alive? A corporeal? Damon just didn't know. How badly had he hit his head on the way down?

"Why…why did you save my life? I'm assuming it was you."

She said nothing, looked down for a moment, and then cocked her head to the side as if she were listening to something only she could hear.

"I don't have much time," she said.

"Just tell me…a-are you alive? Real?"

That grin was back on her face and revealed nothing. "You'll find out soon enough."

She began walking backwards and was becoming immaterial before him.

"Bonnie. Wait!"

Saying her name for the first time in months shocked him more than seeing her in the flesh.

Damon couldn't let her go. He couldn't just let her fall through the cracks. Not again. He promised.

She halted and recited, "'_He must master or be mastered. Mercy did not exist in the primordial life. It was misunderstood for fear, and such misunderstanding made for death. Kill or be killed, eat or be eaten, was the law; and this mandate down out of the depths of time, he obeyed_.' Now I see why you love that book. But let the others know…a reckoning is coming."

Bonnie chucked something at Damon who caught it without taking his eyes off her. He didn't need to examine what it was. He knew.

It was his ring.

He blinked involuntarily and she was gone.

TBC

**A/N: You listen to Drunk in Love on repeat and this happens. Watch a show where your favorite character is turned into a daycare provider, and this happens. One half of your OTP is stuck in a toxic, messy, sex addicted relationship and this happens. In conclusion, my mind is a riveting place right now, lol and I'm not really sure where I'm headed with this in the second half, but like I stated previously, just wanted to add more Bamon to the world. Let me know what you think. Any guesses to what Bonnie meant about a reckoning coming? Thanks for reading! Love you guys!**


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